He stared up at the stars overhead. “I know you can hear me,” he whispered. “I can’t thank you enough.”
He glanced at his watch, knowing Pearl would be hungry soon. And, if he hurried, they could still make the bonfire at Fire Gorge Ranch. Part of him was curious to see how Woodrow Boone would treat him, without knowing about his new inheritance. The other part of him didn’t give a shit about Woodrow Boone.
The same couldn’t be said for his niece.
“I don’t expect her to love me,” he said, still searching the night sky. “But, damn it’d help if I could get her to forgive me. And get her out of my heart.”
He pushed off the porch railing and headed inside. Pearl was chattering away over the monitor, so he headed into the bedroom they were sharing. She stood, gripping the edge of the port-a-crib he’d set up for her. She was busy pressing buttons on the play gym that was strapped to the crib’s side, happy as can be.
“You up, snuggle bunny?” he asked. He’d liked Tandy’s endearment. Try as he might, the name Pearl didn’t roll off the tongue. It felt too formal for this big-eyed, curly-headed baby girl.
She bounced, smiling and gurgling with enthusiasm. Her little hands let go of the crib to reach up for him.
“Hungry yet?” he asked, lifting her. “Bet you need a diaper.”
She blew bubbles, clapping her hands. “Da-gee, da-gee.”
Click smiled. “The doggie is with Tandy, Pearl.”
“Da-gee?” Pearl repeated.
“Wanna go see the doggie?” he asked.
She clapped again. “Da-gee.”
“Okay, you win.” He carried her to his bed, assembling the necessary equipment for her diaper change. It was a work in progress. About a third of the time, the thing leaked. Other times, Pearl walked right out of them. But occasionally, he got it right. This nap time wasn’t one of those times. Her little dress was soaked through. “Sorry,” he said, laying her on the bed. “Don’t want to make them too tight.”
She lifted her legs up, her hands grabbing her toes, all the while blowing bubbles.
“Guess that means you forgive me?” he asked, tickling her tummy.
Pearl squealed, her carefree laughter easing the constant worry placed on his shoulders a week before. They were doing fine. Better than fine.
He changed her diaper, adjusting it twice for good measure. When she was dry and in clean clothes, Pearl started scooting to the edge of the bed.
“Where you going?” he asked, watching her hold on to the blanket and swing her feet—looking for the floor.
“Ba-ba-fllllp,” she announced, her feet touching the floor.
“You did it all right. Down,” he said. “You got down.”
She smiled up at him.
“You hungry?” he asked, heading toward the kitchen.
“Num-num-num,” she said. “Num.”
“We’ll find you some num-nums.” He smiled, washing his hands. “I just said num-nums, Pearl.” He shook his head. “Guess I’m getting the hang of this baby-talk thing.”
“Ga-bllp-la,” she responded.
He frowned, having no idea what she was trying to tell him. “Or not.”
Chapter Six
Tandy sat with the kids gathered round the campfire. They were red-eyed and worn out. That’s what fresh air did to city kids. One of the things she loved most about the country was watching kids act like kids. Fire Gorge didn’t get the best tower reception, so cell phone and television service was spotty at best. The kids normally recovered faster than the adults, chucking their phone for a dip in the pool or a trail ride. In time, parents were thrilled to see their kids playing in the dirt, climbing trees, running for no reason, skipping rocks and using their imagination.
But not all of them. There was always one parent—one family—that couldn’t unplug. And for them, Fire Gorge was a missed opportunity.
“We’re going to make some music,” Tandy said, her guitar in her lap. “Anyone here play an instrument?”
One hand popped up. “I play recorder.”
Tandy nodded. “Keep it up. Anyone else?”
Another hand rose. “I play violin.”
The kid next to him tugged his arm down. “No, you don’t. You don’t practice anyway.”
“The violin is a classic instrument. I know practicing isn’t always fun, but it’ll make you a better musician.” She strummed her guitar. “We’re going to go around the circle. I’ll give you each a sound to make. We’ll go around the circle, playing in order, and it will make a song.”
“How’s us making sounds going to make a song?” an older boy asked.
“Watch and see,” she said.
He sighed, loudly.
Scarlett passed out the instruments: some tambourines, rhythm sticks, hand bells and shakers. She picked the older boy to play the bongos and a preteen girl sitting in the shadows for the spoons.
It was easy, really. She, Scarlett and Renata had done this countless times before—working through their summer vacation with the ranch’s youngest visitors. Once the kids had settled down, she divvied up the parts.
Banshee looked at the instruments and trotted away from the fire pit. Tandy giggled. “He’s not a music lover,” she explained. “All my shakers, go first, like this.” She shook her wrist twice.
“Then the rhythm sticks do this,” Renata said, raking the long notched sticks up, down and back.
“Hand bells,” Scarlett said, ringing the bell once.
When everyone had played their instrument a few times, they went in order, the sounds producing a steady rhythm.
“I’m going to play now. Don’t stop doing what you’re doing,” Tandy said. She strummed her guitar a few times and started playing. “Sing with me if you know it. But don’t stop playing.”
“Let’s sing a song and make some new friends...” she sang. “Follow my lead now, it’s time to begin.” She strummed her guitar. “My name is Tandy and I like guitar. That’s something about me, now you tell me something about you...” She glanced at Scarlett.
“My name is Scarlett and I like to dance. That’s something about me, now tell me something about you...”
Around the circle they went. Most of the younger kids joined in right away. She didn’t let the older kids’ rolled eyes or dismissive expressions get to her. That age was hard. But with each verse, more voices rang out. Someone started laughing, and that was all it took. The kids always got carried away with what they liked, but that was the point—to get everyone involved and happy. When they got to the last name, they were all singing loud and proud. They all clapped, laughing and using the instruments.
“Now that was some mighty fine tunes,” Woodrow Boone said. “How about we take a break and have some burgers and hot dogs.”
The kids jumped up, dropping the instruments and running toward the dining room. It was such a clear evening the windows and doors of the large hall were propped open. When dinner was over, the tables would be pushed against the walls for line-dancing and two-step lessons. She might have been expected to help out with lessons when she was a teenager, but there was no way she’d line up to have her toes crushed or her shins kicked tonight.
She packed up all the instruments and carried the large basket back toward the main house, staring up at the stars overhead. Texas skies were endless, always. But West Texas was different from the Hill Country. There, the rolling landscape offered a sort of gentle horizon. There was nothing gentle about the land here. It was barren and flat, except when it wasn’t. The eye could trace the seamless line of the horizon then, boom, a craggy-faced cliff appeared.
The Davis Mountains weren’t a vast mountain range when compared with their neighbors, the Chisos Mountains of Big Bend National Park. But they held their own beauty. Deep ravines, dramatic rock formations and ancient layers of vibrant volcanic re
ds painting their jagged faces. It was the minerals in the rock that gave Fire Gorge its name. When the sun set, the sunlight reflected and bounced, setting the rocks of the gorge aflame. It was mesmerizing to see, the sort of beauty only nature could manage. Humbling and awe inspiring, raw and soulful.
She paused, peering into the blue-black at the shadowy edges of the mountains in the distance. It had been a while since Tandy had climbed up to watch it. Banshee, who came trotting to her side, would probably love the hike.
“You know that was rude, right?” she said to the dog. “You didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, leaving that way.”
Banshee cocked his head to the side.
“Yeah, I guess you do have sensitive hearing.” She stooped, rubbing his silky-soft ear. His golden eyes drooped as he leaned his head into her hand. “You’re forgiven.”
“Tandy?” Renata called down from the porch, waving her inside. “We saved you a spot.”
Tandy nodded, carrying the instrument basket up the hill and into the main house and locking it in the equipment closet. Saturday nights were a big production. Uncle Woodrow believed in sending guests off with a warm, fuzzy feeling. The bar was open, the band was live and the dance floor would be in use until the wee hours of the morning.
She leaned against the doors and smiled down at Banshee. This was the first time they’d had quiet, just the two of them, since they’d arrived in Fire Gorge. She knew she’d miss Renata when she headed home. It would be an adjustment, one of many she was making. But she’d be okay. She knew how to be alone—she had years of practice.
“What are you hiding from?” Click’s voice startled her.
“Da-gee!” Pearl announced.
Tandy did her best not to tense. The past couldn’t be undone, but she didn’t want to live there anymore. If he was staying put, as he had every right to do, she had to get a grip. There had to be a way to see him without overreacting. Right now her emotions were all over the place: anger, sadness and...awareness. “Just enjoying the quiet,” she confessed.
It was hard not to appreciate the picture he and his daughter presented. He wore a black button-up shirt, starched jeans, polished boots and a hat that sat just right on his brow. He was, without a doubt, a perfect example of a true cowboy.
Pearl was in his arms, waving at her.
“Tandy,” Click said. “Tandy.” He pointed.
Pearl looked at Click, then pointed at her again.
“Tandy.” Click nodded.
Pearl grunted, leaning away from him—for her.
He frowned. “You mind?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she said, taking the little girl. The scent of his cologne tickled her nose, threatening the dam she’d built against the tingle-inducing, molten-hot memories they’d made. “You look mighty pretty, Pearl.” She ran a hand over her embroidered pink dress. “A little princess.”
“Only one button,” Click said. “I don’t get why they use such tiny buttons on such tiny clothes. My fingers aren’t made for it.” He held his hands up.
Tandy laughed, too surprised by his tirade to do anything else.
Pearl laughed, too.
“Your daddy’s doing fine, isn’t he, Pearl? Tiny buttons or not.” She should stop smiling at him, stop staring at him—stop drowning in those damn blue-green eyes staring right back at her. She sucked in a deep breath. It wasn’t fair, this effect he had on her. “Taking Scarlett up on her dinner offer?”
He nodded, swallowing.
“Feeling brave,” she murmured.
He shook his head. “Wish I was.”
Her heart... It didn’t hurt exactly, but it was feeling something. She didn’t want to feel anything for Click, she couldn’t. “Let’s go,” she said, too disoriented to do much but put space between them. The sound of his boots on the wooden floor, behind her, didn’t do much to ease her nerves.
“Da-da-gee,” Pearl said. “La-ba-gee.” She ended with a gurgle.
“You want to dance?” she asked. “Well, you came to the right place, little Pearl.”
“Is that what she said?” The amusement in Click’s voice sent a shudder down her voice.
“She’s dressed in a party dress,” she said, refusing to look back at him. “Of course she expects to dance.”
“You came.” Scarlett jumped up. “Oh my, Pearl, look at you.”
Pearl smiled, curling shyly into Tandy’s chest. “Hee.”
“You holding on to Tandy?” Scarlett asked, patting Pearl’s back. “You always had a way with kids.”
“And animals,” Renata added, glancing at Banshee.
“Best judge of character,” Click said. “Children and animals,” he added.
Tandy stared at him, her heart feeling again...and thumping a little too fast. He’d stooped to scratch Banshee behind the ear, oblivious to how unsettled she was. Of course he was. It was a simple compliment, nothing more.
She turned back to the table to find Renata and Scarlett staring at him.
“Ta-dee,” Pearl said, patting her chest.
She froze, staring down at the gleeful toddler.
“Ta-dee,” she repeated, still gently patting her chest.
Tandy nodded. “Yes, snuggle bunny. That’s right.” She stared into those big brown eyes, Pearl’s little nod of satisfaction filling her with happiness. “I’m Tandy.”
“She said your name?” Click asked, standing close behind Tandy’s shoulder. “Tandy?” His hand rested on her shoulder, warm and heavy.
“Ta-dee!” Pearl grinned, patting Tandy’s chest. Then she pointed at Banshee. “Da-gee.”
“Who’s this, Pearl?” Tandy asked, looking at Click. “Daddy? Is that your daddy?”
Pearl nodded, her smile growing as she reached for Click. Click bent forward, his arms sliding under Tandy’s to scoop Pearl up. His breath brushed her temple and ear. His hand, big and warm, covered hers. He invaded her space and her senses, simply by being there—shifting his daughter against his broad chest. Her hand was trapped, keeping her tangled up in him—them—far longer than she wanted to be. His chuckle was strained, drawing her eyes up to his. He was beautiful, as always. This close, it was impossible not to recall certain memories. The good ones. Like being in his arms. Click’s embraces were solid, his arms strong and warm. She hadn’t been warm in so long.
“As I live and breathe, Click Hale, don’t tell me you’re still pining after my niece?” Her uncle’s voice ended any thoughts of warmth and being in Click’s arms.
* * *
CLICK’S PLAN TO stay calm and collected just went to hell. One touch from Tandy and control was a foreign concept. One look into those hazel-green eyes and he didn’t give a shit about Woodrow Boone, his high-handedness, or the man’s ability to make him feel lower than dirt. He’d rather stay this way, with Tandy against him, smiling and flushed.
“Daddy.” Scarlett’s warning was useless.
Woodrow Boone had never made an effort to hide how he felt about him. Click Hale would always be the son of the man who caused the greatest scandal in the history of Fort Kyle, Texas. Well, in this century at least. Murder-suicides might not be all that newsworthy in big cities, but there’d been no escaping it here. Especially when loudmouthed opinionated pillars of the community made it clear he was just as bad his father—barring him from having contact with his daughter and nieces as a precaution. The comparison had sent Click into a rage. He’d never raise a hand to someone he loved or let his rage take a life.
He shifted Pearl to his hip, releasing Tandy. She wasted no time putting a table between them. “Scarlett invited us for dinner,” he said, offering his hand to the older man.
Standing face-to-face with the man who’d torn him down when he’d needed kindness most wasn’t easy. Time had changed many things, but there was a part of Click that still worried Woodrow Boone was r
ight. Maybe there was too much of his daddy in him to ever amount to something good.
Woodrow’s eyes went round at the sight of his daughter. “Us?”
“My daughter Pearl and I,” Click said, forcing a smile. “She won’t eat much.”
Woodrow’s gaze narrowed slightly. “And her momma?”
“Just the two of us,” Click said.
“Hmm,” Woodrow said, finally shaking his hand.
“Daddy.” Scarlett hopped up and grabbed his arm. “This is Pearl. Pretty, pretty Pearl.”
Pearl smiled her shy smile, staring up at Woodrow Boone with those big eyes. Click marveled at how quickly she stole the older man’s starch. From inflated self-importance to grinning fool, Scarlett hadn’t exaggerated when she’d said Pearl was the key to winning Woodrow Boone over.
Not that he needed to win the old man over—not anymore. At the same time, he didn’t want to make enemies of his powerful neighbors. If he decided to stay.
“Pretty Pearl indeed,” Woodrow said. “I see an angel in your arms, Click Hale. What did you do to deserve that?”
“Not a damn thing,” he answered honestly. The last week had turned his life upside down and backward. But he wasn’t sure it was a bad thing.
Woodrow nodded. “A man’s only blessed if he has children to love him.”
Click had never expected Woodrow Boone to say anything insightful, let alone true.
“Course, the love of a good woman’s nothing to sneeze at,” he added, winking at Click. “Where did you say the little missus was?”
Click shook his head. “I didn’t.” His personal business was his own. He’d decide when and what he’d share, not some nosy old man.
Woodrow’s eyes went round, then he chuckled.
“Daddy,” Scarlett interrupted. “That man is waving at you.”
Woodrow frowned at his daughter, his gaze searching out the man. “Oh, well, that’s one Jim Marshall of New York, one of our return guests. More money than a fellow has a right to. Best see to him.” He glanced at Pearl again. “You and your pa come see me soon, Pretty Pearl. Might have a little business we can discuss.”
Cowboy Lullaby (The Boones 0f Texas Book 6) Page 7
